


The Lost Girl

by ClosetWeeaboo



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: F/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClosetWeeaboo/pseuds/ClosetWeeaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A teenage girl washes upon the shore of Neverland and comes across its famous inhabitants. She is sent on a bitter revenge plot by Captain Hook to destroy Peter Pan but soon finds herself to be attracted to the flying teenage boy. Trying to survive on the island and make herself accepted by the Lost Boys, she embarks on a journey that will change her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vacation Tastes Like Vomit

Everyone knows the story of Peter Pan, you know, the boy who never grew up? The children’s classic written by J.M. Barrie and that old Disney movie? The infamous Captain Hook and his pirates, the jealous fairy with pixie dust, and the lucky children who got to fly to Neverland?  
Yeah, that one.   
Fun to read, and that 1953 Disney movie isn’t that bad but, to be thrown onto the island of Never Neverland, or more likely to wash upon the shore, is a completely different story. Your beloved characters are definitely not what you want them to be. Peter Pan? Stupid annoying teenage boy who is cocky as all hell. Captain Hook? Angsty old man who wishes for Wendy to return. Wendy and the other Darling children? Nobody in Neverland gives a shit about them unless you’re angsty Captain Hook. And where the hell is Tinker Bell? Tinker Bell? What pixie? I haven’t seen her since the moment I dragged myself off that damn beach and was pulled into this bitter revenge plot.   
And who might I be? The most badass of them all. Lol jk, no I’m just a loser who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Heck, I didn’t even like that accursed Disney movie why the hell was I even brought into all this crap? Anyway, if you hadn’t read the title, this is the story of how I became the very first Lost Girl. No, it wasn’t Jane which I know some of you hardcore fans believe, but it was not, and like hell anybody pays attention to Disney sequels unless it’s going to be a sequel to Frozen or if it’s Toy Story 1000. And for those of you who read that J.M. Barrie novel that claims Peter Pan just takes Wendy’s descendants, that’s all just bullshit but I’ll have to explain all that later, this is the the story about me. The ever so magical (not really) story of how I somehow managed to get that moronic teenage boy who flies to fall in love with me, Captain Hook to be thwarted from what I must admit is a very good revenge plot, and to have the entire island of bullshit Never Neverland to probably, most likely, hate me.   
So here I go, retelling the most epically stupid of stories that should definitely never go with the book that has a permanent residence in the Classics section of Barnes and Noble; the story of how I became the very first Lost Girl.   
Jasmine Hahn, 15, stupid. Talents include doing nothing, but doing nothing exceptionally. Master at being yelled at for unproductivity and is grounded like a queen. Now my magical story does not begin in the dismal location of sunny Southern California of where I grudgingly abode, where is the second star to the right? That’s right, the beautiful, cold city of London, England. But how does one Southern California hermit magically wake up on the mystical sand of Neverland’s beaches? That is a question I constantly ask myself as well considering the fact that the portal to Neverland is one, in a different country, two, is in the sky, three, should certainly most definitely not exist. But if I might interject the one way I so happened to even get close to this fictitious location, it was by cruise.   
A cruise? She must be ridiculous, the readers thought but alas, it was the way I landed in Neverland. I did not fly, I was not kidnapped by pirates (until later), and so I assumed this was the only way the universe could figure out how to torture me.  
Shall we have her almost drown in the ocean through a magical whirlpool to land on the stupidest island that we made just to see if we could defy physics?  
Universe, I am mentally giving you the bird.  
Anyhow, the cruise came from my parent’s sudden urge to travel before I started my first year of high school. When my parents asked me where I wanted to go that summer the only word I said was “cold.” Behold the cruise to Europe was planned. I honestly did not believe that England could be that cold in the summer but balmy weather to a Brit was probably sweater and scarf weather to any Californian. But the problem was neither the cruise nor England, it was my powers of underestimating England’s strong winds and my lack of body weight.   
I am still convinced it was a magical gust of wind that caused me to go sailing over the cruise deck’s railings and into waters that I’m certain would have made the passengers on the Titanic die faster. Into these bitterly cold waters I was dragged under, in a swirling mess underneath the ship and probably to the bottom of the ocean. The moment I thought I was going to die, Death told me Lol nah, another day hon, and I awoke to white sand beaches and a view of a jungle.   
After a “what the hell” moment, I dragged my face out of the sand and threw up on a bed of kelp before stumbling along the shore. I looked around to find myself on an island surrounded by miles of blue-green water as far as I could see. At the time I would have never imagined it to be Neverland and at first thought I was dead but after throwing up again I decided God would not make me feel so shitty in heaven. My knees felt like jelly and after many failed attempts to stand I came to the brilliant decision to just lie there and take a nap like the wonderful hermit I was. I have no idea how long I was asleep for but when I woke up there was a brown sack going over my head. I threw up again, probably into the sack.


	2. Ye Olde Pirates

The sack was pulled off of my face and I looked around to be surrounded by a bunch of old geezers. From short and pudgy to tall and bony, they ranged in shapes and sizes but nevertheless they all shared one thing, wrinkles. They all stood around me awkwardly in a circle, I think they were possibly trying to intimidate me but I was pretty sure if I made a fast break between this skinny grandpa and a chunky 70 something year old I could’ve been home free. But that idea was quickly caboshed when something metallic was held to the back of my head and sharp swords were put to my throat.  
Swords, I thought, who the hell in this day and age has swords? Maybe they are a part of some old geezer organization for rustic things. A convention possibly. This has to be cosplay or something.  
Each old man held a gleaming handle of a sword, each sword though, like its owner, appeared old and seemed to be breaking and crumbling.  
“Get up,” one of them said in a cracking voice, it was the gun holder behind me, “Cap’n wants to see you.”  
Captain? If this is some kinky role playing thing I’m outta here.  
I slowly rose being very careful of each sword and the men dispersed to allow me to see my actual location. I was on a ship, an ancient looking ship that I was sure could be out of Pirates of the Caribbean but highly unlikely it could have been used in its dilapidated state. The ship in its day I’m sure would have been beautiful. Fading red paint broke and crumbled off of its rotting mast and once golden words at the head of an onlooking railing were blackening and smudged out leaving a few visible letters. A capital J and a G E and R remained tarnished but still visible. I gazed up at the huge sails that looked like they, like the rest of the ship, as if they were once beautiful but were now grey and smudged with dark brown spots. I’m surprised it even sailed considering its shitty condition.  
“Turn around slowly.” the cracking voice said. I did as I was told and slowly turned around to see the oldest out of the crew and probably the oldest man I had ever seen in my life. He was pudgy with rolls of wrinkly fat, a loose striped shirt lay over his rolls of pale white skin. He had a droopy nose and Harry Potter glasses and a worn out knit beanie. The other old men all looked like they could have lived a life of crime in their younger days but not this man. He had watery eyes and constantly coughed as if every breath he made was difficult. He fumbled a bit after I gave him a questionable look, the gun shook a little but stayed at my head. He swallowed nervously eyeing the other men and licked his cracked lips before spiting out (with great effort) his next sentence.  
“Cap’n wants to meet you.” he said after a cough. I recognized that through his coughs, he had a British accent which I was excited to hear once reaching England but thought was strange to find in this tropical environment. I debated whether or not to smack the gun out of his hand but with a shaky trigger finger I did not want to chance anything.  
“She already heard you the first time you fool.” one of the other old men said and like the one with a gun, he had a British accent.  
“Just make her move, Smee. Honestly, I don’t understand why Cap’n keeps you around.” another said with a gruff voice. Again the European accent.  
“You’re just here for a good laugh, ain’t that right, Smee?” another said shoving the old man who swayed and almost fell.  
Smee? I thought, the name sounded way too familiar and as I looked around, the ship reminded me of something. It was like a dejavu moment or the feeling of having a word on the tip of your tongue but the word escapes at the last second. The whole situation in itself was weird enough but now the whole idea with the island and the old men on a ship kept perplexing me.  
The men around me started to laugh boisterously while the old man by the name of Smee tried to gain his balance. He was quite a pitiful sight, fumbling and wheezing while the others laughed but I took the opportunity to duck under the gun and make a break for the railing. After my earlier aquatic adventure I was pretty sure I could swim back to the island and make S.O.S. messages out of kelp, but my dreams were crashed when a rough hand grabbed the collar of my flannel.  
“Don’t think we forgot about you.” one of the men said with a snort pulling me back. He put a sword back to my neck and gripped my shirt tightly. “I’ll just take her to the Cap’n, this is taking too long. You know how patient he is. ” and with that I was shoved in the direction of a door near the mast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for even looking this far. Lol, I promise it's going to get better.


	3. Miss Havisham Wannabe

The door led to a musty damp hallway with dust flying about. I had a sneezing fit once shoved down the hallway but my captor did not seem bothered. Again, the rustic looking ship did not disappoint even in it’s lower levels. I imagined if I was on the Black Pearl the inner part of the ship would be in better condition but a similar premise. The hallway was so dimly lit I could barely see but the entire ship looked as if it belonged in a museum. I coughed again and was shoved blindly down the hall. The man gruffly opened the darkest looking door at the end of the hall and it creaked once pulled.  
“Cap’n,” the man said pulling the door open, “She’s here.”   
I swallowed nervously as I peered around the room. The few rays of light that were allowed in through a dirty window illuminated the clouds of dust in the dimly lit room. Cobwebs covered wooden tables with ornaments and sextants scattered across the room. The walls were spotted in crimson red as in the fading wood lacquer revealed its true intentions. If Miss Havisham had a room on a ship, this room was probably it.   
From the darkest, dampest corner of the room I heard a groan. A dark figure emerged, creaking out of an ancient cobwebbed throne, slowly walking into the light. He was pale, so deadly pale. The kind of pale of a vampire or the pale of Jeremy Irons’ character in the remake of The Time Machine, but either way he looked like he should have died a thousand years ago. A tattered red feather hat lay droopily on his wrinkled brow. Deranged blue eyes sat over a crooked nose that reminded me of Penguin from Batman. His lips were thin and cracked with a creepy tear on the left side revealing rotting yellow teeth. A ripped and wrinkled long red coat hung off boney shoulders, dragging all the way to the ground to meet worn out black boots. On his right side the coat slid off his shoulder leaving the coat arm to lowly hang over his right hand. His left hand emerged from the side of his coat to expose skeletally boney white fingers and with his index finger he coaxed me toward him.

“Come in,” he said with a cracking dry voice, “don’t be afraid. I don’t bite.”   
Oh that’s not reassuring at all.  
I didn’t really have much of a choice whether I wanted to enter the room or not. The large man who led me in had given me a fierce shove, catapulting my body halfway across the room to be slammed into the ancient table. Dust flew everywhere and a series of napping spiders were woken from their cobwebs to scurry around in a panic.  
“Gently,” the old man said in a hiss, “I asked them to escort you gently. Those complete total morons. ”   
As I pulled my bruised body off the table he grabbed my elbow and a rush of panic shot through my limbs as I whirled to look at him. To my surprise he was merely trying to aide me, pulling me to my feet. He dusted off my flannel then looked back to my face with a pitiful look.  
“I must apologize for the behavior of my men,” he said a whirl of dust puffing around him which I was convinced had escaped his lungs, “they are not used to guests let alone female ones.”   
Like the other men he had an English accent that wavered between his words. I studied him carefully trying to access him for the crazy psychopath that I had envisioned to be at first glance but he showed no signs of hostility. He stuck out his ghostly left hand.  
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said clearing his what I assumed dry throat, “my name is James Hook. Who, might I ask, have I made the great honor of meeting? ”  
The name itself didn’t register until later, ( I'm an idiot if you haven't realized) I was too busy marveling how dry and leathery his hand was. I imagined that if I were to shake hands with a mummy, it would be the same feeling.  
“ Jasmine,” I managed to rasp out. I let out another cough allowing my throat to clear of dust and excess seawater, “Jasmine Hahn.”   
“ Jasmine,” he purred in his cracking voice. “Jasmine. It’s perfect.” he muttered the last words under his breath but I caught them and frowned slightly.  
“ I’m sorry, but what’s perfect?” I asked scrunching my face. He grabbed my hand and I jolted again at the dry bones.   
“ I am a firm believer in faith and karma Miss Jasmine.” he hissed rubbing my palm with his rough fingers and he looked down at my hand, “ And I firmly believe that you were meant to be on that beach in my time of need.”   
“I beg your pardon-”   
“I am in a desperate situation you must see that Miss Jasmine, my men and my ship are in a disarray and there is only one that is the reason for this calamity.” he hissed pulling me towards him with wild blue eyes.  
I tried to pull back but his weak old bones held onto me like a vice.  
“ Now tell me Miss Jasmine, have you met him.” The last word was filled with such venom, such bitterness that I was afraid for whomever him was. But with those words something clicked in the back of my brain, the ship the island, this old man. Something about it seemed eerily familiar but alas, my sea watered brain still couldn’t wrap around it. His name also sounded too familiar but again I should remind you. Jasmine Hahn. 15. Stupid. I knew I should have been able to recognize it immediately but to be able to comprehend something that was supposed to be fictional is knocked out with logic.  
“W-Who?” I stuttered out nervously. His crazy blue eyes searched my face but realized I was telling the truth.  
“You really don’t know do you?” he said slowly looking into my eyes. “You really don’t know…”   
There was a slight tone of desperation in his voice and he slowly let me go, stumbling back over to his cobwebbed throne.   
“She doesn’t know,” he muttered sitting down, “she has no idea…” He whipped his head so quickly back to me I thought his old neck would snap, “ The boy who never grew up!?” he barked at me. His voice was no longer old or cracking, now it was loud and echoed off of all the antiques in the room.   
“The flying imbecile who plagues this accursed island!” he screeched and I felt some of the old antiques rattle.  
He was starting to scare me but I couldn’t see any option of escaping knowing that the buff dude who had brought me in was probably standing outside. Whoever this man was he was deliriously old and enjoyed playing pirates with a bunch of other old geezers. For whatever strange reason they were able to rent out an ancient pirate ship and play make believe, dragging it out to a weird tropical island. Even though I was nervous, I made the resolution that if he got any crazier I would grab one of the many sextants and knock him out. Once that was done I would try to figure out how to escape. It was an awful plan in it’s entirety but I had nothing else.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I yelled back at him.  
“Peter Pan!” He screamed at me, afterwards he seemed winded and began a series of gasps emitting dust into the air. He curled back onto his throne and massaged his temple with a few more shaky breaths.   
“Peter Pan…” he said in a hushed and raspy voice.  
“What?” I replied confused. Then it hit me, “Wait, you said your name was James Hook-”  
“Yes…”  
“But that’s not possible,” I explained with a scoff crossing my arms. This old man really had gone crazy and I was so done. Unfortunately for me, fate was not being kind and was definitely not going to let me free that easily.  
“Captain Hook is not real. Peter Pan is not real. It’s just some stupid children’s book that got made into a Disney movie. Although, I must admit this truly is all very impressive but whatever weird fetish, cosplay thing you and your friends are doing just let me go and I might not report you to the police.”  
He smiled creepily and the cut in his lip curled to expose more yellowing teeth and gold filling.   
“I don’t exist do I?” he spoke eerily reclining in his throne, “You seem to know enough about me so you should know how my story goes then.”  
“Oh please, don’t mess with me. Everyone knows the story-”  
“Then you should know this!” And with a flourish he slammed his right arm onto the throne. The red coat arm that had covered it before slid off exposing what was supposed to be his right hand but in it’s place was a shining silver hook. It looked exactly like the old Disney cartoon, silver and glistening at the end of his wrist. I analyzed it in shock, it looked so real I almost believed it but I knew I couldn’t. I had to make sense out of everything and a shiny sterling silver hook was not going to convince me otherwise. It was pretty convincing but I figured it could have been a fake that was just hand-made on Etsy.  
“ That’s real cute.” I said trying to put sarcasm into my shaking voice, “ how much does one of those cost? 40, 50 bucks maybe? I mean one of good quality ought to be a little on the pricier side-”  
He grunted and pulled his arm off the armrest, the hook disappearing back underneath his coat.   
“Miss Jasmine, I did not bring you here without purpose.” He said adjusting his coat.  
“Well, I hope that purpose isn’t something gross because I am not pretending to be Wendy.” I said in a passing but at the name Wendy he bolted from his seat rushing to grab me by the shoulders, this time his hook was wrapped around my upper arm.  
“Wendy? You know Wendy? How is she? Where is she?” He asked me with desperate blue eyes searching my face.  
“ Sure, everybody knows Wendy.” I said sarcastically but he was serious. He was definitely off his rocker.   
“Do not mock me.” he hissed realizing I was just teasing. He let me go but his hook left a light scratch on my arm causing my skin to be left with a thin white line. “You cannot comprehend my affection.”  
“Affection? What, you have some perverted love for her? Wasn’t she like 12-”  
“You mentioned a children’s story,” he said interrupting me as he slowly walked around the room, “What children’s story?”  
“Peter Pan,” I said scrunching my nose at all the dust that was beginning to accumulate in the air from his movement, “It’s a classic.”  
“That is the title, yes?”  
I rolled my eyes, like heck he didn’t know of Peter Pan, if he wasn’t obsessed with it then there was no way he would have put this all together. But I played along and nodded.  
“Who wrote it?”  
“I don’t know, some guy. I think.”  
“Some guy?”  
“I don’t really know his name. J.V. no J.N. something-”  
“Was it, James Barrie?” He said turning to look at me.  
“I don’t know if that was his first name but it’s probably likely-”  
“James Barrie ah yes, I remember him.” he said clucking his tongue, “ he was the first child ever to come to Neverland, second to Peter of course.”  
“Well, I’d imagine he wrote the book-”  
“He was the first one to call it Neverland explaining that it was a place of his dreams.”  
“So you’re saying he came to this island?” I interjected but was cut off by Hook’s train of thought.  
“He used to live here, he was the very first “Lost Boy” as Peter called him. He was the very definition if you ask me, always running from his family problems.”   
“So the author came here as a child?”  
“Yes, he did. How he arrived here is a mystery to all, I believe he arrived similarly to you but he was the first child Peter ever befriended. Those two used to cause havoc on anything they touched and Peter is fool and has no comprehension of responsibility or consequences. The island was near dying until the fairies stepped in.”  
“The fairies?” I asked but then remembered Tinker Bell, the jealous pixie.  
“Yes, they make the season’s come and go on the island and are it’s heart, keeping it alive and existing in this strange ocean. The island became so nice that the mermaid’s would come in during the summer just to enjoy the warm green waters. It was their summer hideaway.”   
He was just starting to sound crazier but I was trying to think of all the other things that I knew were in Neverland to compare to his crazy explanation.  
“But with a fruitful and thriving island exotic animals are sure to thrive as well. There were so many beasts running around, trampling and destroying the ecosystems the island was on the brink of destruction yet again. Then the Native American’s emerged on the Neverplains and starting hunting and the island was in a balance again.”  
His explanations still sounded crazy but as I matched up all the characters from the novel to his words I began to think he had taken a long time to put this all together. But somewhere within me I wanted to believe what he was saying was true. For something that magical to actually be able to exist not in my most wildest of imaginations.  
“How did you and your men get here then?” I asked.  
“My men and I were the worst of the worst. Stealing from every port and ship we could blunder across the world. We had acquired enough treasure where we believed we could be rich beyond our wildest dreams.   
But we were not safe anywhere. The world despised us and we were wanted for murder and thievery. We couldn’t hide anywhere. We came across a small fishing village which held a famous gypsy who claimed to be able to grant any desire. My men and I went to her, threatening her to give us an island where we could seek refuge and hide our blunders from the world forever. She granted us this wish and our ship sailed through a strange gateway and onto these seas.  
But we were fools, we had not paid her. We threatened to murder her rather than give her some of our wealth. She cursed us you see, so we can never escape this island. We’ve been trapped here for years and my torture is to be tormented by that boy. ”   
“Wait, but if this is truly Neverland then doesn’t that mean nobody should ever grow up? Like wasn’t that the premise that nobody grows old?” I said, “No offense but you don’t exactly have the whole,” I waved my hand generally in his direction, “agelessness thing going on.”  
He sighed and rubbed some dust off of the ancient table.  
“One is only granted with agelessness due to constant exposure to Pixie Dust.” he said quite matter of factly, “Peter, the flying fool, for some strange reason does not actually need it but one who is not him needs to constantly be exposed to Pixie Dust. The Lost Boys are constantly flying about and using the magic dust for idiotic purposes. They do not age due to that flying pixie that accompanies Pan. That is why-” he added a slight bow, “your’s truly is in the most ravishing of conditions.”  
I smirked at his joke and logically to his whole exposition, but the more he spoke the more strangely convinced I was becoming. I would have to pretend anyway to be able to fathom escaping unscathed.  
“But James Barrie wrote the book,” I said, “ and you said he was with Peter but he didn’t write the book here. And how did Wendy ever get here?”  
“Young James did leave eventually. I did meet him on many of Peter’s crusade’s of havoc but he in a sense, to Peter’s horror, also grew up. He realized that he had to face his family problems, he couldn’t keep running away. Running away from his problems were Peter’s specialty, not young James’s and so Peter flew James back home like many children who would visit. But Peter never forgot his friendship with James. Even though he is the most forgetful of boys, you’ll see, but he never forgot James.  
“And Wendy,” he ushered her name with a dreamy look in his eyes, a very loving compassion, “Wendy was the most beautiful creature this world would have ever seen. Peter had brought her one day, she was 12 then, and I thought she was just another brat that he had dragged off the streets of London but she was not.  
“I believe the reason why young James wrote a book is because Peter would often leave the island. Flying through the star that he always does I believed to see James. To tell him about Wendy and the other Darling children and all their adventures.   
“She was nothing like any of the others he had brought oh no, she was nothing like the fools he had brought before. She had an air of maturity to her and Peter liked it. He had always despised grown ups but the thing that he liked most about Wendy was her maturity.  
“You see she was very motherly. She cared for Peter and the Boys in ways that was completely knew to Peter. He liked it when she ordered him around and told him that he couldn’t do things. He thought of it as a game you see. He always sees it as a game.   
But Wendy began to grow into a panic. Peter in his forgetful state was beginning to forget where she came from, where the Darling children had come from. She was worried that the children would forget their true mother.   
“To Peter’s dismay, Wendy wanted to go back. Peter tried everything in his power to stop her but as I told you, she was very motherly and had only her brothers concerns in her heart, not her own. You see, she had fallen in love with Peter and she did not want to leave but she feared the worst for her family. So grudgingly, Peter took the Darling children back.   
“But Wendy often returned to Neverland. Peter enjoyed her company too much to not have her be a part of his adventures and she was too infatuated with him to say no. She began to grow older though. Every visit she made she looked older and unfortunately, Peter is quite forgetful. He would often forget to retrieve her, making the gaps of time between her last visit lengthier.   
“She grew up to be a beautiful woman, ravishing in every aspect of beauty and I fell for her, but she only had eyes for Peter, you see. I sought her out and was rejected continually but I still was in love with her.   
“Peter was always oblivious of her affection of him. But one day he was acting quite strangely, he seemed off, I couldn’t quite put a word to it. I asked him where Wendy was and he didn't recognise who she was. The name Wendy was completely foreign to him. He's a complete fool you see, he's very forgetful, and after a while I realized he would never bring Wendy back. He had forgotten about her. Like many other things but I thought that he wouldn't forget her. He often even forgot my name and who I was but I always thought he would remember Wendy. But she was merely a plaything to him and like many toys they can get old and boring. I never knew how he could forget her but even now at the mention of her name he looks confused. He had forgotten her utterly, not even caring.” he ended his speech with a look of sad, longing. He had made his way to the cracked window and stared outward into the rays of sunshine. The bright light highlighting his ghostly skin, he looked dead. Like a ghost that was being exposed to the sunlight for the first time.   
“Now you must see my bitter anger,” he said looking at his hook, “I had already detested him for taking my hand and feeding it to that damn crocodile but this was too much. He never could comprehend the notion of love. He's too immature. The complete devotion of feelings to another, he's very selfish and doesn't understand.”  
“Look, this story is great and all but I really want to-” I interrupted but to my dismay Hook was not done.  
“That is where you come in my dear,” He continued gliding back over to his throne, “ I need someone who can change him.”  
I raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean change?”  
“I cannot morph him into the person I wish him to be with my utilities. I need someone with a different arsenal.”  
I stared at him with the look of disgust.   
“Excuse me?” I spat with disdain.  
He chuckled at my reaction and sat back down into his throne.  
“You’re cute. Not nearly as cute as her but unfortunately you are all I have.”  
“Gee thanks.” I said with a snort.  
“He hasn’t brought any more girls since Wendy so you washing up along the shores is just good luck.”  
Or psychotic whirlpools and strong breezes, I thought bitterly.  
“ I need someone who can manipulate him you see. I need someone who can use him. I want him to lose himself.” Hook continued and to my horror I realized what he wanted me to do.  
“You want me to make Peter fall in love with me.” I said with a gasp.  
“Precisely!” Hook excitedly said, pointing his hook at me, “I need you to make him vulnerable.”  
“But I don’t understand,” I said confused, “ didn’t you say he was too immature to even comprehend the notion of love-”  
“Yes, but that was a long time ago. He may be an idiotic child but all children get bored. When Wendy was here, Peter was off his guard most of the time because he was doing something stupid to make her happy. He was not attracted to her but the attention of a woman to any male is intriguing in itself.”  
Not to gay men, I thought to myself with a snicker. Hook thankfully didn’t seem to notice my newfound humor.  
“ I need Pan to be thrown off of his game, I need a small gap to rip into him.” Hook said scratching the ancient table causing the wood to screech.  
“So you want me to go and… seduce him?” I said flabbergasted.  
“More or less. I want him to feel as much despair that I have felt. And once you have him, he will know the truth utterly destroying him. The complete betrayal of his new toy. He may not be able to age physically but I can age him mentally. It will destroy him. ”   
“Um, sorry but no. This made up revenge thing is really sweet but I just want to get back on that accursed cruise leading to my infinite doom and never ever watch Peter Pan like ever again.” I said finally building up the courage to turn around and make a break for the door. I figured we had been there too long for buff dude outside to wait so I hoped I didn’t run into him as I reached for the door. Unfortunately, Hook had other plans. Even in his ancient dinosaur state he still managed to beat me to the door, slamming his hook over my wrist just as I had grabbed onto the rotting door handle.  
“I don’t think I made myself clear,” He hissed, his wild blue eyes glaring at me, “you don’t have a choice.”  
My wrist was trapped beneath sterling silver that had begun to cut into my skin causing it to turn red. The feeling of panic had come back to me as I looked into his psychotic gaze. His lips began to curl and the cut in his lip expanded, causing blood to run down his pale skin.  
“ If you do not do this for me, I shall kill you.” He said blood dripping down his chin, “My crew and I may not be as young as we once were but we have not forgotten our ways.” he pulled the his hook off of my wrist and nailed it over my throat. “You have no say in this matter.”  
I was terrified, I had only been scared to this amount of fear a few times. Strangely enough waking up on an island without anybody I knew was not in the top few times of my anxiety. I had been making fun of this old man this entire time but what I truly didn’t realize how much of a psycho he actually was. He was going to kill me with his Etsy made hook and he wasn't kidding. If I wanted to live through the evening I had to play along to his psychotic plan.   
“Fine,” I said swallowing nervously, “ What do I need to do.”   
He slowly took his hook off of my neck then began to scamper around the room. Sifting through everything on the table and knocking towers of books down  
“You will have to find Peter,” he said grabbing onto a bunch of large pieces of paper. “Even after all the years I have spent here I still don't know where that stupid boy resides. There are some maps that I've made of the island. It should tell you everything you need to know.” He scurried around searching through the dust for something but came up blank and yelled at the door, “Smee! Fetch her a satchel and a compass!”   
He shoved the bundles of papers into my arms then grabbed me again causing more scratches with his hook. “Once you have met Peter you are on your own,” he said staring at me intently with his wild eyes. “And if you even think of running the island is an island after all. The Indians won’t even be able to protect you if you ask for sanctuary. So don’t even think about it.” He grabbed one of the many maps in my arms and uncurled it, showing the image of the island and pointed his hook at the bottom part of the island to a small cove near the shore. “Once you believe Peter is at a disadvantage, inform me, any possible way. We are here,” he drove his hook into the map making a small hole in the image, “Cannibal cove.”  
Smee creaked the door open and slunk past me, handing Hook a red leather satchel. Hook took it and shoved it into my arms with the rest of the maps.  
“You must go now,” he said his blue eyes wide and psychotic, “you haven’t any time to lose.” With that he began to hurry me out the door, “Quickly now, you must be on your way.”   
I was shoved out the door and back into the rustic hallway.   
“But wait!” I said turning to face a deranged Hook in the doorway. “What happens if I can’t find Peter?” I had seen the size of the island on the map and it looked quite large and looking for one teenage boy on it could only lead to disappointment.  
“Oh you’ll find him,” Hook said with a smile, “And if you can’t, he’ll find you. If you cause enough of a ruckus he’s sure to be intrigued.”  
And with that I was sent on the most stupid of hero quests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter only took a thousand years to write. If you are reading this far I thank you so much.


	4. Shiver Island

I was sent to wander on a (probably, most certainly) dangerous island with nothing more than a smelly satchel. I trudged grudgingly through the tropical terrain looking back every now and then to see how far I had gone from the shore. The old pirate ship began to get smaller as I tripped over twigs and branches attempting to make a path for myself throughout the island.   
The heat was unbearable, the humid sticky air hung over me like a blanket as I trudged through the jungle. I had taken off my flannel thanking my smart decision in the morning to wear a tank top underneath. Wrapping the white button up around my jeans, I gazed at the beautiful tropical flowers. The tropical terrain looked exactly like out of a scene from Lost with the mass of trees and exotic flowers. The air smelled damp and felt sticky against my skin and was nothing in comparison to what I had prepared for in Europe. The decision to wear jeans with the cold breezes when I was on my cruise was destroying me in the tropical climate. I wiped off the droplets of sweat from my forehead as I reached into my satchel.   
With two maps in my hands, I glanced back and forth, turning the poor wrinkled pieces of paper while I surveyed my area. On one map it showed the island just like it did in the Disney cartoon. The entire island with all of the different landmarks. The island was covered with the scribbly pen marks with cursive letter sprawled across different areas of the island describing the corners and landmarks to be noted. It did have some of the same names as the movie but different areas were new to me. The traditional Mermaid Lagoon with a little scribble of a fishtail in the water, the Indian camp with the little teepees, and Cannibal Cove, as Hook had pointed out, still fresh with a hole just to remind me of the psychotic old man. But other landmarks I did not recognise. Far off in the corner I saw a large rock formation floating in the maps ocean labelled Marooner’s Rock. It looked dark and foreboding with jagged rocks. I thought back onto the Disney movie and remembered Skull Rock, the place where Tiger Lily was taken when she was captured. I assumed this was the somewhat realistic equivalent. Unfortunately, I couldn't think anything was somewhat realistic anymore.   
More landmarks I didn't recognise as I gazed over the map, I saw towards the back of the island there was a sad drawing of a tree with a noose attached labelled Hangman’s Tree. Another note was what looked like a small tear in the islands corner, allowing the water in and labelled Crocodile Creek. I hadn't payed much attention to the Disney film but I couldn't quite remember if either one of those landmarks was there. I made a mental note to stay as far away from Crocodile Creek as I could remembering the ticking croc from the film.   
The other map was slightly different. It had the island’s basic shape but the traditional landmarks were drawn but not noted. Instead different areas were labelled. The Indian Camp was labelled as the Neverplains. I thought back at Hook’s story on how he said the Native Americans emerged onto the plains. I imagined they arrived similarly to me and James Barrie, through some unseen portal to this accursed island. A group of mountains between the jungle and Hangman’s tree were labelled Neverpeaks with a scribble of sad hills that were supposed to be mountains. I squinted into the distance and did see a huge mountain between the tropical canopy of trees. A giant waterfall fell off of the mountain’s center, cascading the white water to an unseen bottom.  
I bet it's called the Neverfall, I thought to myself bitterly. I didn't understand why everything had to be named Never Something. I contemplated the idea of the name of the island and how it's inhabitants came up with the name.  
As in the island where people Never Grow Up? But then again to Hook it would be the island where you can Never Leave. Or Never Age Well. Ugh, nevermind I don't care.  
I shook my head and almost tripped over a tree root that was sticking unnaturally out of the ground. Once I steadied myself I gazed back at my second map.   
The island had scribbles over different sections, circling certain areas and labelling tropical plants. A small scribble of a weird rock structure off the side of the island was labelled Cave of the Neverbeast with a little arrow pointing into the rock. Another mental note of something to steer clear of. But what I thought was really weird about the map was that different sections were labelled different seasons. Toward the Neverpeaks it was labelled Winter, near the Indian Camp it was labelled Spring. Towards Hangman's Tree it was labelled Summer, and according to that map I was headed straight for Autumn.   
That old man has definitely lost it, I thought to myself.  
Looking at both maps and my surrounding area I convinced myself that I could somehow escape Hook and get back to the cruise and my family. I had convinced myself that I would be able to figure out a way off the island, swimming if I had too, but there was no way that I would go along with Hook’s crazy plan. I knew he had threatened my life and thinking back on the occasion made me shiver but I didn’t want to be dragged into his psychotic plan. Now distancing myself from the ship and that crazy incident, my logic was starting to kick in and tell me that it was all just the plotline of some crazed old man who was really into Peter Pan.  
Just any crazy old man that wasn't put into a mental ward, I thought to myself with a nervous swallow, avoiding a muddy slip. Just a crazy old man on a ship with a crazy cult following. Yeah, that's it.   
I logically thought about the entire story that Hook had explained to me trying to find holes.   
If Hook was here during J. M. Barrie's time that means he should be dead not a shriveled up prune. Unless he was affected by Pixie Dust, which doesn't exist, then that would be the only way that he could maybe be alive. But that's not true so he is just a crazy old man that got a hold of a pirate ship and bought an island. A normal, privately bought island.   
In fact, the more I looked at it, the more normal it became. I felt that if anybody was exploring a new land, this was what it would look like. I was so used to my suburban Southern California neighborhood that trudging through a tropical jungle was so visually different. Not that many people trudge through jungle terrain unless you’re maybe Bear Grylls, but just comparing the two environments were completely different and I couldn’t recall any occasion viewing anything like it. I didn’t remember a time that I had seen so many trees. I was so used to houses and buildings at every block that the sheer number of trees just astounded me. As I gazed among the treetops, tropical birds flew overhead with brightly colored wings, squawking as they went. I mucked through the spongy dirt and analyzed everything in a daze. It was just an island. An uninhabited, nonindustrialized island.   
“This island is Neverland,” I chuckled to myself with a scoff, “like heck it is. This is just some completely normal island with normal,” I kicked a tropical tree with the tip of my Converse “trees and plants. And no way in heck is there any way that this could be a magical island, with flying teenage boys and pixies with ageless dust.”   
I came across a bundle of trees that were entangled together and I continued to talk to myself as I squeezed between the small gap to the other side. Talking to myself made me feel slightly better about exploring a strange island by myself. Just hearing my own voice made me feel a little reassured.  
“There are no mermaids, or Native Americans,” I said before getting smacked in the face by a tree branch. The tree branch was pushed by a strangely cold breeze considering the humid stickiness of the air I felt before. I batted the branch away trying to avoid a net of vines and a series of beetles crawling over them. “There are no crocodiles with ticking clocks,” another cold breeze hit my now bare arms and I shivered involuntarily.  
That’s really weird, I thought but continued squeezing between two thick tree trunks.   
“This is just a beautiful island, with beautiful flowers and-” a large green beetle scuttled along a vine near my face, “-bugs.” I swallowed nervously and quickly dodged more bug ridden vines and saw the bright opening between the trees and made a break for it. At this point, the trees were so tightly wound together that the opening was so small that I had to crawl on my hands and knees, trying as little as possible to touch the damp ground. Another cold wind escaped through opening but the breeze was soon replaced by the humid air around me.  
“Just an island,” I repeated quietly to myself wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, “ a beautiful, tropical island.” I had finally reached the opening and was beginning to crawl out, squinting at the bright light. “Just a stupid, normal island. This is not Neverland-”  
I was finally out of the jungle and found myself in the strangest of sights with chilliest of weather. The tropical trees had changed from Palm trees and Banana trees to brightly colored Maple trees with red leaves, covering the ground in a blanket. The scenery looked exactly like the beautiful background on a new computer, with high definition imagery and vibrant colors. The trees covered each side from the opening, covering both sides of a leafy path covered in the multicolored leaves leading into the distance.   
I felt like I had just walked through the closet that led to Narnia. I kept looking back and forth, sticking my hand behind me to feel the humidity and my other hand in front of me to feel the cold.  
“This was a normal island,” I squeaked, “like 5 seconds ago.”  
I racked my brain for any natural anomaly that could have made this occur but I came up blank. Nothing could explain a sudden change in the temperature and the seasons between a foot. I kept trying to convince myself that this was the cause of global warming or El Nino, anything logical but I could not deny what was in front of me.  
That was the moment I realized that everything Hook had told me was true, that I was on Neverland. I had stopped denying it, the evidence was right in front of me I couldn’t think logically anymore. Peter Pan existed. Everything was real. Fairies existed, mermaids swam in the oceans, and people could fly.   
I knelt there on my hands in knees, staring for a good 20 seconds just trying to process it all. I pinched myself a couple times and debated whether or not that branch had smacked me hard enough into delirium but knew it was all true. I convinced myself to stand, rising on wobbly knees and unwrapped the tied flannel around my waist. I put my flannel over my now cold arms, as I began to venture down the colorful path. The autumn leaves crunched and crackled under my shoes and I looked at the area with new eyes.   
A bright flash of color was caught in the corner of my eye and I glanced to my left in a panic. A rocky creek ran along the side of the path, coming from the opposite direction of the path. I squinted at the clear water and saw a swarm of tiny fish anxiously swimming downstream. The small fish were brightly colored, flickering with a brilliant greens and blues, bolting through the water leaving a trace of light like the affect on your eyes after waving a glow stick. The fish were so beautiful and I couldn’t think of any fish in an aquarium that could compare.   
“I bet this fish is called the Neverfish.” I said with a giggle. I figured that no scientist had ever seen a fish quite like that and I began to think on all the things that I dismissed as not real and wondered whether they actually existed.  
“If fairies exist that means unicorns exist,” I said matter of factly with a nod. I wandered down the path kicking leaves up as I went, “ If people can fly then Santa sure can fit down a chimney and get to all the kids in the entire world.”   
I pulled out my maps as I kicked up another set of leaves, now understanding the seasons scattered across my map. I looked at the area labelled Autumn and tried to gauge where I should wander next. The idea of escaping now seemed impossible because I actually was on Neverland and not some random island. But I still wanted to get back and I had to figure out a way of escaping without getting involved with Hook’s plan ie, meeting Peter Pan. I had to find an another way off the island without running into more unfortunate characters. I looked at my map and noticed that the closest area to me was Mermaid Lagoon. If I could get a hold of a mermaid then maybe they would tell me an alternative way off the island. I thought of the mermaids in the old Disney film but hoped otherwise because if Hook was in the sad dilapidated state that he was, then maybe the mermaids were in a completely different situation as well. And with that hope, I trudged along the leafy path to possibly deal with Mean Girls with tails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please endure the inbetween chapters, I swear once I get to Peter it will be better. Thanks again for looking this far.


	5. Mean Gills

Hooks’ men had packed everything under the sun in my satchel except for an ounce of food. I found sextants, books, children’s toys and other weird doohickies that I couldn’t name, but not even a crumb. Half of the stuff I tossed out looked like it would be in a museum and I’m sure if I had brought it back home with me I could’ve made a fortune, but at the time it was just weighing me down. I made the resolution to come back later if I ever wanted it, of course in the end I never got to, but I mentally made a checklist of all the things I would come back for. Especially all the ancient looking items that were lathered in gold.   
The autumn path split towards the right, allowing me to go in the direction of Mermaid Lagoon. I pranced and twirled in the colorful leaves that descended from the red and yellow trees, gazing at how beautiful the area around me was. It was the most picturesque, Instagram worthy moment that I could have ever imagined. Every teenage girl would have loved to take a dramatic picture in the scenery with an infinity scarf and a pumpkin spice latte with the caption #fallfaves. The scenery I swore could have made me Instagram famous but unfortunately for me, my phone was in my cruise suite, taking a nap on my nightstand.   
Now some of you readers are thinking, Why would she leave her phone in her room? Well, for those of you who have not been on a cruise, there is honestly no point to your cellular phone. Why? Because you get no reception out in the middle of the ocean so why the need to carry it around? The real problem is wandering around unsupervised with protective parents aboard a large ship. My mother had devised a brilliant plan for us to keep in contact if we ever split up aboard and it was through the notion of walkie talkies. The reason I never made friends with anybody in the teen club aboard my cruise was because my mother was always trying to contact me through the staticky channel on my walkie talkie.  
Jasmine-Erck!-Jasmine!-Click!-Come in!  
It was a completely hopeless cause and was just heavy in my small cross-body bag. Honestly, so far the trip had just consisted of my mother scolding me for not answering my walkie talkie.  
“It’s broken, Omma. I never got your call.” I would lie which would create the hour long lecture about safety and how worried she was. Now that I realized that I was actually on the island of Neverland, I debated whether I actually wanted to go home.  
To the average person, the idea of going back home after arriving in Neverland probably would not have been appealing. On many occasions, I had dreamed of running away from my strict overprotective parents to probably survive off the welfare of a sugar daddy. But you know, minus the sugar part. Many times I have thought about intricate plots of running away from school, work, and in that sense, growing older with responsibilities. My parents were extremely strict and constantly pressured me about school and what the future would hold and most of the time I just wanted to run and hide.   
But once given the opportunity, being stuck on the magical island of Neverland where I could play forever and never worry about a thing, I made the very grown up realization of wanting to go home. My mother stressed me out and my father frustrated me most of the time but the thought of leaving them by themselves especially under the circumstances of vacation made me sad. I couldn’t imagine what my mother was thinking at the time. If she was that worried about not being able to contact me in a teen club that was down the hall from our suite, I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling right now. I would have loved to play and prance in the strange season designated island, but I knew better. I had to go home, that was what I needed to do. Back into the arms of my worrisome mother and frustrating father. Thinking about it like that doesn’t sound very appealing, but to me it caused me to walk brisker to my focused location.   
The creek that had the magical Neverfish in it followed the way I was going. I thought that it was leading me to the direction I wanted to go because the creek began to get wider the further I went. I noticed the beautiful autumn aesthetic began to slowly dissipate as the trees began to turn back to the tropical landscape. The salty ocean breezes began to waft towards my direction and I knew I was going the right way. I looked back at my map and thought about how fast I was able to go through the island in my short amount of time. In my bag, Hook had given me a small piece of charcoal that I had been using to mark the direction I was going. It helped me gauge how far I had come and where I would need to go.  
About 30 minutes more of brisk walking and I was able to hear the splashing of water. The creek that was beside me had widened even more and led me straight to the end of the path which led off of a rocky ledge. The water from the creek spewed over and through the rocks to a slight drop. I hopped and skipped over some of the rocks and scrambled on top of the largest rock structure that was angled sky high. After checking my jeans for a skinned knee, I stood up from the crouched position to look out onto the beautiful blue green ocean.   
The sea breezes lightly blew over my face, wiping off any remnants of sweat that I had. The ocean spread out for miles and I squinted as far as I could trying to find an end or another island but only saw a fog. This ocean literally looked as if after a certain point it did fall off the edge of the world into space. I gazed out onto the ocean and saw Hook’s ship in the far distance, the ripped sails battered in the breeze. I looked up at the sun dancing across the sky. The sky could have been out of a cartoon, perfect and blue with the cotton candy clouds. The further up I squinted, the sky turned a darker blue almost in an ombre type of look. This caused a rim on top of the light blue and there, hidden behind a few wandering clouds was the second star to the right.   
It was so distant from anything else in the sky, almost trying to squeeze itself in a corner next to a smaller star to it’s left, but it was impossible not to spot. The star shimmered like a sparkling diamond, putting all the other stars to shame in a dazzling white light. It was noticeably larger than the other stars as well, outshining and outsizing all the others. The Disney cartoon had fallen incredibly short depicting the beauty of it. I wanted to stare giddily at the star for longer but was interrupted by a series of giggles and splashing below me.   
Below me, the water coming from the creek developed in a small waterfall cascading into a beautiful blue green lagoon. Flowers and colorful plants that I had never seen before decorated the lagoon, sprouting out of the water and garnishing rocks. Low hanging trees provided cooling canopies, giving the perfect shade. The sandy pebbles that led the land into the water were bright pink and electric blue, causing the water to mimic those colors against the shore. Strangely shaped shells were scattered along the shores and rocks. Some looked like they could have been strange hair combs and while others looked like water holders or dishes. Rainbow bubbles floated off of the water and spewed from the different small waterfalls that bounced off different rocks. And in the midst of this fantasy location were the mermaids themselves.   
Some of them swam around playing with a large rainbow bubble, smacking it with their tails in a strange water volleyball while others combed and braided their hair. They gazed at their reflections in the water and gave catty smiles at the others like they were runner ups in a beauty pageant.   
I am already regretting this decision, I thought to myself with a nervous swallow.  
All of them were beautiful with long colorful hair. One would think that after swimming for hours their hair would be gross and frizzy, but alas, the universe is a cruel bitch. Each mermaid had salon worthy hair in bright rainbow hues that cascaded down their backs in twirls of sea stars and shells.   
Their skin glistened and had traces of colorful scales scattered over different portions of their bodies. From their waist down you could see a large scaly tail, kicking in the water with a ruffled fin. But from their waist up, their bodies could have made a Victoria’s Secret Angel cry.   
I mean, they had boobs. Gigantic boobs. Like people paid lots of money to get breasts even close to the perfection of the racks these mermaids owned. Some of them wore skimpy seashells or starfish in a failed attempt to cover their chests but most of them just swam freely, allowing their long hair to somewhat cover them.   
Looking down at my surfboard of a chest, I knew that the incoming interaction was going to be self esteem lowering. I was aware that I was lacking in the curve department and was still praying for puberty to hit but the magical wave of boobs and a butt was not going to hit me at that very second. Taking a deep breath, I began a shaky climb down the rocks to the lagoon.   
The mermaids didn’t notice me (thankfully) as I horribly fell down the rocky side, developing a series of bruises and cuts. My jeans and flannel were soaked by the time I ended up at the bottom of the rocks. The mermaids only noticed me when I reached for the last rock at the bottom and disastrously slipped, landing my butt into the shallow shore.   
A gasp emitted from their perfect lips and gawked at me for a few seconds before erupting into a series of splashing and screams. Swimming in every direction, trying to hide as fast as they could to avoid me.  
“Wait!” I hollered trying to get my soaked rear onto a dry rock, “I’m not going to hurt you!”  
But it was too late, they had all disappeared underneath the clear green water.  
“Please, I just need to ask you a question! I really need your help!” I shouted into the water with no avail. I angrily kicked a series of pink pebbles into the water with frustration.   
Disgruntled, I squeezed my butt pockets trying to get all the water out of my jeans and tried to pat them off all I could but my underwear was drenched and could not be salvaged. I was wet and cold, with no mermaids to even try to aide me. I daintily tried to sit back on the rock but the cold sea water was already sinking into my skin. I gave up and crossley sat on the rigid rock, allowing my soppy underwear to stick to my skin. My bitterness was incomprehensible, I was soaked for no reason and the salt water was starting to sting my fresh cuts. I had trudged all this way to get snubbed by a bunch of mermaids and now could not think of a possible way home. A salty tear snuck out of the corner of my eye and I sniffled at the prospect of not being able to go home and my wet underwear. I wanted to cry a river out of my frustration thinking back on all that had happened. Falling off of my cruise, being threatened by Hook, exploring a weird island by myself and getting bruised up. It was childish to cry and I knew it, but there was nobody around to see so I figured it was ok.  
“It’s just a little girl,” I heard a singsong voice usher. I quickly wiped my tear away to see a mermaid with bright green hair peeking over a large rock near me. At those words, the mermaids emerged from their hiding places, looking over rocks and from underneath the water.  
“A girl? What’s she doing here?” Another one sang. The words were supposed to be said with venom and in a bitchy tone but the way the mermaids spoke was hypnotic, alluring. No wonder men threw themselves overboard just to be nearer to them. More mermaids swam closer to me, peering at me with beautiful eyes.  
“A girl?” They all gawked.  
“Go away!” Some shrieked making shooing motions at me.  
“How did she get here?”  
Some did not want anything to do with me, angrily splashing and making rude faces at me while others were curious. The curious ones began to get really close to me, no longer afraid once realizing that I was not a threat. They began to poke me, tugging at my jeans and pulling at my hair. Once upon closer inspection, I noticed that their teeth were sharp like a shark’s and in many rows. When they smiled it was like a scary bitchy shark.  
“She doesn’t look like the last one-”  
“Why is she so pale?”  
“And her hair is so dark-”  
“In my culture that’s actually very attractive,” I managed to say as another reached for my face.  
“Why is her hair so stringy?” One said pulling on my straight black hair.  
“It’s just like dried kelp!” Another gasped.  
“How ugly!” The others giggled.  
“Hey, at least I know what shampoo is!” I spat batting away their now pawing hands and curled up on my rock. The incident reminded me of the scene from the Disney movie where the mermaids tried to drown Wendy. I didn’t know if that scene actually happened but I didn’t want to risk anything.  
“Why are you here?” A mermaid with electric blue hair asked me as she pulled on the end of shoelaces, unraveling my knots.   
“Well, I have a-” I was cut off by a shriek from a distant mermaid.  
“She’s here to take Peter! Remember what the last girl did to him!” A mermaid with orange hair cried and the others gasped. Those words caused a flurry of screams and giant waves of salt water began to get splashed my way.   
“Go away!”  
“Stay away from Peter!”  
“Shoo! Shoo!”  
I coughed and choked on the sea water and stood up, trying to cover myself from the water battering my bruised body.  
“Hey, wait-” I sputtered coughing. I tried to open my eyes but the sea water stung my eyes and my puny voice could not be heard over the racket. “Hey!!!” I screamed loudly finally shutting up all the uproar and managed to spit out a large amount of salt water.  
“I don’t want anything to do with Peter!” I shouted. The mermaids now looked quite puzzled and in disbelief, many of them just had a grumpy frowns on their pretty faces. “I just want to go home!”  
“What do you mean you don’t want anything to do with Peter?” One with purple hair questioned.  
“Everyone wants Peter.” Another with bright red hair purred baring her sharp teeth at me.  
“No, I just want to go home.” I said exasperated, “I just want to go home.”  
This seemed to ripple through the mermaids as they all looked at each other whispering to each other quietly until one finally spoke up.  
“That’s what she wanted.” Orange hair whispered.  
“She?” I speculated, “Oh, Wendy.” And at her name, just like Hook, the mermaids acted strangely, rumbling back into a flurry of frustration.  
“Wendy!” They shrieked.  
“Don’t talk about her!”  
“Ugh, she wanted Peter!”  
“She thought I had bubbles in my brain!”  
“She’s going to want to take him! Just like Wendy did!”   
“Don’t tell Peter!”  
“No no no!” I shouted over the splashing. “I want nothing to do with Peter Pan. Hell, I haven’t even met him! I just want to go home!”  
This seemed to pacify them slightly but they were too riled up I had to scream again to get their attention back to me.  
“I just want to know a way off the island.” I said taking off my now drenched flannel to wring it out. “And I really don’t want to interact with Peter so it’s easier for me and you. It’s a win win.”  
At the mention of me not wanting to meet Peter, they all looked at each other whispering quietly now wanting to support my cause.  
“That’s easy,” Orange hair sassed with a giggle, “the only way is to fly.”  
“Well, no it’s not easy. I can’t fly. And I really don’t want to fly because I’m um, I’m like really afraid of heights.” I said to the mermaids. At these words a lot of them erupted into giggles and happy laughter. Apparently the notion of not flying out of Neverland was hilarious to them. There had to be another way, I needed to go home but I did not want to fly at all. There was a specific reason why my family was traveling by cruise, my fear of heights was incurable. I couldn’t even get on a rollercoaster because I would break out into a cold sweat and a fainting spell. I had lived in Southern California all my life without any desire to ever visit Disneyland with the grand fear of California Screaming. And I was pretty sure that going on Tower of Terror would give me a stroke. There was no way in hell, that I would get out of Neverland by flying.  
“No, I don’t fly.” I said stubbornly jutting out my chin to prove my point.  
“Then sorry,” Blue hair giggled, “Can’t help you there. There’s no other way. You’re on your own.” And with that the mermaids began to dive back into the water, leaving me in my sopping wet state.  
“Hoes.” I said underneath my breath bitterly, “Thirsty hoes.” I laughed at my own irony as I watched them dive back into the water. “A real help you all were!” I yelled back, squeezing water out of my hair. A few turned back to give me a bitchy shark toothed smile while others ignored me. But purple hair turned back to me and spoke.  
“Go to the fairies,” she nodded, “ they have been here the longest. They know everything that has ever happened on the island. They should know.” and with that she dove back underneath the green water leaving me soaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the actual story all this inbetween is kinda fluff. I guess. Thanks again for reading this far I really appreciate it.


	6. Google Translate For Pixies

Walking back through the Autumn area drenched in saltwater was probably one of the most miserable experiences of my life. I was covered in water walking through an area with freezing winds, I was not happy. Thankfully for me, my satchel was not in the same sopping state as I gingerly pulled out my Neverland map. My wet fingertips still dampened the dry paper. I made the horrifying discovery that the fairies or any land of fairies was not noted my map. Quite frankly, on any of my maps and Hook had given me a good amount. I groaned frustrated and scrutinized over all of the maps making sure I didn’t miss anything but alas, not faeries. Not even any mention of fairies. I was wet, miserable, and not any closer to escaping the hellish island that I was grudgingly inhabiting and I was starving. So I did what any logical person would do. I screamed.  
I screamed and screamed until my lungs burned and my throat became sore. A mild headache developed on my left temple as I dragged my sopping wet feet through the crunchy leaves. The leaves began to stick to my shoes but I didn’t care. The thought of just lying there and have Hook find me didn’t seem that bad if someone was as cold and miserable as I was. I fought the urge by taking a quick break by going back to stare at the Neverfish who were still happily swimming through the creek.   
Glancing back at my maps, I had to brainstorm where I thought the fairies might be. Hook had mentioned that they changed the seasons so I guessed that there must be a fairie for each different job. Tinker Bell was supposed to be a common fairy who mended pots and kettles maker her a “tinker.” So if there were fairies for pots then there must be element fairies.   
The charcoal between my fingers wandered over to the Neverpeaks and I looked up to the large mountain in the distance with its snowy peak. The Neverpeaks were located in the Winter area of the island and I was shivering enough not to think of encountering possible winter fairies. I came to the decision that the closest area where fairies could possibly be were either Summer or Spring and Spring was the closest so I headed in that direction  
I headed down the opposite road I had originally traveled down and it led me to a winding path into oblivion. I only saw Autumn trees for miles ahead but I knew that the more I traveled down the road the more the seasons would change. My theory was correct thinking back on my voyage to Mermaid Lagoon. The Autumn area did not disappoint with its colorful scenery and fall animals. Moose and deer ran amidst the trees as I walked down the path. Squirrels snatched nuts that had fallen on the ground and scurried away up trees or into burrows. I even saw a small hedgehog rummaging underneath some of the red leaves.   
The creek that led to Mermaid Lagoon had followed me down the different path as well. But instead of leading me to Mermaid Lagoon it led me to a giant lake. It was beautiful and glistening in the amber light, reflecting the painting worthy environment around it. The bright red and yellow trees were highlighted by the blue water and I peered over to see my reflection. A scrawny wet asian girl blinked back at me with a white flannel. My rugged appearance appeared out of place in this beautiful environment. I looked away bitterly and tried not to self criticise as I walked away.  
The sun had begun to set and a heavy feeling of panic arose. I was pretty darn sure that there were bears wandering around in between the trees and the weather was not going to get any warmer. I was not prepared to sleep in bear infested woods. Cold bear infested woods. I doubted Hook was able to cram a pop up tent or a Pokecenter in my bag or even cared to do so. The pirates clearly didn’t think about my night time sleeping activities. Hook was probably hoping that I had already shimmied myself into the Lost Boys hideout and curled up into Pan’s arms right now. Hook hadn’t planned my sleeping arrangements because he was probably anticipating my sleeping arrangements were going to be with Pan.   
Ew, I thought to myself, Isn’t he like 12? In fact the more I thought about it the weirder and more grossed out I became. If Pan was supposed to be 12 and I was 15 things were not going to go well. There was no way in hell I would try to seduce a 12 year old, I had just barely escaped middle school. Not to mention I was eagerly anticipating high school boys. It was just like Taylor Swift said, Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say,"You know I haven't seen you around before." And I was 15 after after all. I had no desire to possibly seduce a 12 year old flying moron. That was not my plan no matter how much Hook threatened me. I had made it to Mermaid Lagoon on my own I could make it to Spring and find fairies or wherever they were. I glanced back up at the setting sky and hurried down the path  
The path wound around the side of the lake leading to the ultimate end of the Autumn path. The path itself continued on but no longer in the Autumn section. Instead of a mangle of trees like earlier, the Autumn section of the island abruptly ended as if there was an invisible line sectioning off the two areas. Spring lay happily in front of me in a giant massive flower field.   
Baby lambs frolicked between the flowers and white ducks waddled down the same path I came. Pink cherry blossom petals flew in the now warmer breezes to be smacked in my face. If commercialized Easter was made into a land full of jelly beans and marshmallow Peeps it would be this place. I gagged a little from all the happiness and pink dandelions before stepping into Springtime.   
The path took a winding turn leading me straight into flower fields. I will never be Snow White singing and attracting every animal that ever existed and being there made me realize that. Bees and hummingbirds happily flocked to each flower fluttering close to me and I tried everything in my power to swat and bat them away. A white rabbit hopped out of a nearby burrow and bounced over to my foot. The animals there clearly had not encountered anything negative considering the bunny happily curled up on my ankle. My first thought was rabies and delicately attempted to shake off the rabbit who then happily bounced back to its burrow. In fact, all the animals reminded me of the pigeons you meet at the beach that aren’t afraid to bite you for your hot dog. Except these animals were not going to bite your head off. I avoided a few baby dears who tried to initiate contact and quickly hurried down the now cherry blossom infested path. Every shoujo anime could have been put to shame if it saw how many pink petals covered my walkway.  
The area was warmer by a lot in comparison to the Autumn area but I still needed a place to sleep. I was pretty sure a wandering duck family would try to keep me warm but I was in no mood for the possibility to get bitten by a flea. Avoiding a few more rogue piglets, I saw a large tree in the distance. But this tree was not like any of the other trees that I had seen or in the area. This tree was emitting a golden light between its branches and at its trunk. A sparkling golden hue that shimmered and could be seen from all around.   
Don’t tell me Disney’s Pixie Hollow actually exists, I thought to myself bitterly. I lifted my foot to take another step but barely missed the tiny house that I almost stepped on. A tiny house that could have been made for a Polly Pocket was nestled underneath the pink cherry blossoms. It could easily have been mistaken for a large mushroom because that’s what it was made out of with half or a nut for a door. I crouched down and stared for a long time, it was straight out of a fairytale. Every 7 year old girl dreamed about stuff like this and I had finally hit fairy nirvana as I looked down the road and found more mushroom houses. I carefully stepped as I walked down the path and followed the houses which led to the magical tree. As I got closer to the tree the amount of tiny houses increased. They became more elaborate with bundled leaves for roofs and bound twigs for doors. Some were made out of pine cones and others were made from series of flowers that blended in with the flower fields. And as I looked closely I realized that many of the flowers themselves had small hut like structures in their centers. Near the tree were more houses and it looked like a little city with the tree being its center. The houses went all the way to the tree even winding up the trunk on mushroom stools. Suddenly I heard it, the tinkling and the chimes.  
If a million wind chimes went off at once it would have been the same sound. A jingling of a bell and a blur of light. The fairies. I could see them, as shimmering waves of light in a flash that would leave white spots under your eyelids when you blinked. They had the same golden light as the tree and they flew around the tree in fluid arcs in every direction.   
The closer I got the more of the fairies I could actually see. They were tiny, the tallest being about the length from my palm to my fingertips. There were male fairies and female fairies clothed in leaves and flower petals. Many of the males had acorn top hats and they communicated with each other witha as eries of tinkling and chimes. Even though the sun was going down the fairies did not stop their work. They all were in a flurry carrying flowers and twigs busily hustling with their jobs. There were different fairies for each job just as I had imagined. Some were holding sprouts while others were holding nuts. They were moving things with little wooden wagons attached to mice and little birds. The animals in their care were being pampered and fluffed. No wonder the animals had no fear if the fairies pampered them.   
I remembered my experience with the mermaids and decided to approach the fairies with caution. I slowly crept down the walkway and gazed at the shimmering tree. This time I wouldn’t try to sneak up on any more mystical creatures and try to forewarn them. Not like I had tried to creep up on the mermaids I just fell. But I had to try and be nice.  
“ Um, hi?” I called out softly to the area. The fairies were not at all bothered by my acclamations in fact they all halted what they were doing and flew in my direction. At first I thought I was going to be attacked by their tiny bodies but instead their swarm came to welcome me with open wings. Petals were showered onto me with a flower crown and many went to my backside to push me towards the tree. I was so surprised at their happy reaction towards me considering I was a giant in comparison to them. If the mermaids had freaked out at the sight of me why weren’t these tiny pixies?  
They escorted me past the tree far off into the flower fields. At first I thought they were trying to get rid of me, (which was reasonable because I smelled like an antique ship and seawater) but in the distance I saw a small wooden house. It was made of twigs and branches and reminded me of the playhouses you have as a child. The roof was made of thick leaves and were bundled together tightly to keep out any rain. The house itself looked structurally solid but not symmetrical at all as it heavily leaned to one side.  
I was hustled inside by the fairies and the inside looked quite homey. Once entering the house the fairies swirled about, lighting small lanterns both inside and out of the hut. It had one room that was filled with a small bed with a cotton puffed mattress. Poorly made shelves and cabinets lined the wooden walls. An old wooden chest lay rotting in the corner and looked older than anything in the room. It lay ajar to reveal a dirt ridden teddy bear slouched to its side. I immediately reached for the stuffed animal, gingerly picking it up and dusting it off slightly. The teddy gazed at me with black bead eyes and the fluff inside was spilling out of one of it’s ears.  
The fairies chimed and swirled tugging me to sit in a wooden rocking chair in a corner. They lay a woven fleece blanket entwined with flowers on my lap before swirling onto the dirt floor. Another swarm of fairies followed after the first, flying through the door bearing fruits and vegetables and other yummy things. Apparently my growling stomach was another hungry animal that they could take care of.  
Their food was not the all-you-can-eat buffet that I had been experiencing on the cruise but it was still delicious and probably the only salad I had eaten the entire year. My unhealthiness was not appreciated by anybody but myself but my hungry belly happily consumed the pieces of greens. After I was efficiently stuffed, many of of the fairies brought strange flower instruments and noise making insects that performed little shows for me on the cottage floor. Many of the fairies danced to the music, twirling in the air and I couldn’t help clapping along to the melody.   
This was when I noticed the dust. The pixie dust. It cascaded off of their wings t=giving them the golden glow. It was the same gold that had come from the tree and I wondered if the pixies had made a weird pixie dust bank there. It was the magical dust that made the children fly in the book and it was the same dust that caused agelessness. The fairies carried it in small pouches attached to their hip and some took handfuls and threw it over their wings. Other used the dust in an elaborate display, causing shapes and patterns to glow into the air like fireworks.   
They were all too jolly to accommodate me it was almost creepy and I wondered if it was all a set up. The sun had finally set and the island was covered in darkness that was now only illuminated by these fairies and their lanterns. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to run away from these magical prancing pixies. I had to say my next words with caution I honestly didn’t trust them enough to be completely happy-go-lucky. They could’ve been man eating monsters I didn’t know.   
“So um, thanks a lot for all this. It’s really sweet and I really appreciate it but um- why?” I questioned a prancing pixie in a petal dress near my foot. She spoke to me in tinkles and chimes but I couldn’t understand a thing she was saying and shook my head saddly. She smiled at me sweetly and looked at her other fairy friends who nodded and cleared the floor space for her. We then played an elaborate game of charades with her pointing to different things and herself as she made wild motions. She kept pretending to wander and look underneath something.   
“You’re looking for something? You’re gone you’re lost- lost!” I exclaimed happily when she looked at me and nodded eagerly. She then pointed at the stuffed animals and the other fairies joined it seeing my apparent struggle. They all pretended to play happily and acted jolly but I couldn’t put it together.  
“Playing? Having fun?” the female fairy kept pointing to the stuffed bear. “Toys bears… Toy bears….” I was stumped and all the fairies tried to make something out of the dust. The dust kept forming people playing. “Playing, playing with toys? I don’t know.” Then I realized they were children playing. And it was a children’s toy.   
“Children?” I questioned and all the fairies happily tinkled and the girl fairy looked at me with pride. “Lost Children.” I clarified and the fairies jingled again in agreement. They then made rocking motions with their tiny arms. “You care for Lost Children.” They all jangled happily and made the rocking motion. “You care” the motioned toward outside and behind me, “past, past me? Oh, you cared for-” Then the little fairy put her hands on her hips and puffed her little chest out proudly. The motion was oddly familiar and she put the icing on the cake when she pretended to play the pipes.   
“Peter Pan?” I asked questionably. She nodded happily and the other fairies cheered happily. “You cared for Peter Pan?” All the fairies flew in a frenzy with chimes and jingles. The answer was yes and they were proud of it. “So, you want to help me?”   
Petal dress nodded eagerly. I guess they weren’the man eating fairies I feared of.   
“Ok, well then if you want to help could you help me off of this island. I want to go home. But I can’t fly. I don’t want to fly. I’m too scared to fly. Is there a way off the island without flying?” I urged the fairies who looked at each other in slight confusion but Petal dress knew what she was doing. She dove for my satchel and dragged out one of my many maps. I helped her uncurl it and she danced across the map landing the Native American camp.   
“The Native Americans?” I asked and she tinkled with a nod. “They can help me? They know another way?” She nodded again making a small X with the tip of her two over Native American territory. I thought back onto Hook’s story and how he said that the Native Americans emerged onto Neverland without any real explanation of how they got there. They had to know another way because they clearly hadn’t flown.   
“Thank you.” I said to Petal dress who did a little curtsy. I turned to all the fairies and smiled. “All of you thank you for this it really helps.” The fairies lifted my blanket off of me and urged me into the bed. My weary and damp body lay on the cotton grossly and I took off my flannel and jeans in an effort not to stay damp. The fairies whisked my clothes away without a noise but I had no fear of it not returning and I was too tired to care. I figured they were going to intertwine the belt loops on my jeans with flowers and make my flannel smell daisy fresh. The bed was extremely comfy and my worn out body lay motionless the moment the fairies lay the blanket over me.   
“Hate to be a bother again,” I said to Petal dress who was jumping on my pillow to make it softer, “but you guys wouldn’t know where a good shower is. You know a spring or somewhere I can bathe myself because I feel gross.” Petal dress smiled at me but followed the other fairies out the door closing it behind them. I slept happily with the scent of fresh flowers all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO EXCITED CHAPTER RIGHT BEFORE PETER YAAAAAAA!!!!!


End file.
